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Wednesday, March 30, 2005 

Supermarket sketch

I hate strangers who try and chat to me in supermarket queues. If I wanted to talk to someone in a supermarket queue, I would have dressed up for the occasion and be sipping on a vodka martini while the cashier rings up the items in my shopping trolley. Let's face it, but I am least likely to be friendly when standing in line at the supermarket. Who wouldn’t be? Shopping for food is a bloody necessity and I derive very little pleasure from performing this arduous task “4 Plastic bags, please” are about the only words that escape my mouth as I resolutely load my items on the conveyor. No eye contact, no smiling, no small talk… I really don’t care to hear about the weather in JHB or Cape town or anywhere in South Africa. Your spousal or other relationship issues do not interest me in the least nor does talk about your kids and how expensive things are on shelf. I can see that for myself, thank you very much. Oh and don’t even think of telling me about any health problems that you may or may not have. We are not that close, in fact I barely know you and would like it to remain that way. I may end up in therapy for months and the potential for embarrassment is endless. Allow me to stand resolutely next to the till and stare into space, while I play with the coins in my trouser pocket. On the other hand, if you are hot and single and looking to hook up with me … by all means go ahead and lay it on me... please, I insist. If I am going have to speak to someone and pretend to be interested, it may as well be for the “right” reasons. I am not easy but I am "very" open to new experiences. Yeah I know… I am so shallow… sigh. Vodka Matini, anyone?


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